Let's Take Things Back To The Start
by squeakykiki
Summary: My idea of what the case BB worked on before the pilot might have gone like. Oneshot.


**This is just a oneshot on my idea of what the case BB worked on before the pilot might have gone like...it turned out quite a bit longer than I'd anticipated. shrugs Let me know what you think.**

**Bones (including every single one of its _fine_ parts, does not belong to me)**

"Dr. Goodman! I…"

"Dr. Brennan, who funds our research?"

"That has _nothing_ to do with…"

"Who funds our research?"

"We are a Federally funded institute. But that doesn't mean…"

"And, so, we like to keep them happy. Give them what they want. And, at present, they want you."

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Taking a deep breath, hoping this would hide her turbulent feelings of displeasure, Brennan knocked on the door. Blowing hair out of her eyes, she waited, studying the solid dark letters. _ Booth, eh?_ Forcing herself not to growl in frustration she began lightly tapping her foot on the floor. She could be delving into the countless skeletons brought in from an ancient Iron Age settlement off Norway but, _no_, instead she was dragged into F.B.I. Headquarters to meet this Seeley Booth person to talk about some case they were having trouble with. Didn't the F.B.I. have a forensic team of their own? Why did they need to inconvenience her by demanding she leave the Jeffersonian and come all the way down here when they had their very own forensic experts at their disposal? This guy was taking his sweet time responding to her knock.

She repeated the action, putting a lot more force into it this time around. A disgruntled male voice barked, "Well, come in for God's sake!"

Biting the inside of her lip to prevent her angry, colourful retort being spoken aloud, Brennan pushed open the door. She grudgingly admitted to herself that she probably would have responded in exactly the same way if someone had attempted to break down _her_ office door so she decided to give this guy the benefit of the doubt.

"Agent Booth?"

"_Special Agent_ Seeley Booth and…"

The dark haired man glanced up from his desk as she moved into the room. For a moment he looked startled. Then slightly dazed. Finally, he shook his head in the same manner people use when trying to get rid of buzzing insects.

He was good looking. Extremely good looking. High, defined cheekbones. Eyes of melted chocolate. A strong, firm mouth with a fetching bow in the centre. His jacket hung on the back of his chair. The sleeves of his crisp white shirt were rolled up to his elbows, exposing _very_ well defined forearms.

_Who_ was this vision that had just strode into his office as though she did this every day in life? Shiny auburn waves. Piercing blue eyes. A full, glossy mouth. A figure to tempt even the most dedicated of saints. Oh God. And he hadn't even finished his sentence. He'd just spluttered and died like a teenager. Well, no time like the present to pick up where he had left off.

"And you are?"

Brennan frowned slightly at the man's hesitation. What on earth was wrong with him? Just her luck to get paired with a deranged "agent" who couldn't string more then three or four words together at a time. And very basic words at that.

"I'm Dr. Temperance Brennan. I'm a forensic anthropologist at the Jeff…"

Recognition dawned on his face and he settled back into his chair, a smug smile dancing on his lips. His eyes seemed to scrutinise her with a renewed intensity. Brennan drew herself up to her full height, nostrils flaring slightly. She wasn't sure why, but she felt as though this man was inwardly laughing at her.

"_Ah_. The _squint_."

Brennan's brow furrowed and her lips pursed slightly without her even being aware of it.

"I'm sorry, the what?"

He was smiling openly now, his eyes sparkling as though sharing a joke with himself at her expense.

"Yeah, they told me you were coming. The Bone Lady, am I right?"

He emphasised his point by gesturing at her with his pen. She sniffed and raised her chin slightly.

"I prefer the term 'forensic anthropologist'."

He struggled to compose himself and appeared to mutter something along the lines of "Yeah, I'll bet you do." He took a moment to neutralise his expression.

"Right. Sure. Ok, well I'll take you to see the body."

Brennan could feel herself prickling. He had the tone and behaviour one adapts when addressing a young child. A young, petulant child. Anger beginning to bubble up and burn her throat, she turned sharply on her heel and strode out of the office. Seconds later he joined her. He placed a warm, broad hand on the small of her back and indicated down the corridor, the opposite direction from which she had come.

"Right this way, Bones."

The position of his hand startled her. She blinked in surprise and ducked her head, flustered. He had propelled her about ten feet away from the office door when the nickname he had apparently bestowed upon her finally registered. She gazed at him curiously, her expression suspicious.

"Bones?"

His eyes twinkled and the corners of his mouth twitched.

"Yeah. Bones. You're the Bone Lady. You work with bones. Ergo, Bones."

She adopted her most deadpan, sarcastic tone.

"Brilliant."

Her displeasure seemed to amuse him further still. Infuriated, she stopped suddenly, planting her feet in front of him so as to block his path. He backed up a step, momentarily startled. She raised a hand for emphasis.

"Don't call me Bones."

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* * *

"Victim is female. Caucasian. Aged between 20 to 25." 

Her words bounced back at her from the shiny starkness of the sparsely decorated room. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Booth wince at the magnitude of her voice. Who on earth did he think she was disturbing? The lady lying on the table was _far_ beyond caring how loudly she spoke.

"Wait, wait, wait. How can you tell all that from a pile of bones?"

She shot him her most withering look. Her expression softened somewhat when she saw the furrowing of his forehead, the genuine confusion reflected in his eyes. Her voice became gentler as she attempted to explain.

"The shape of the pelvic bone indicates sex. The fusion of the…"

He let out a short frustrated sigh, his eyes narrowing as he glanced at her face.

"I can't understand when you get into the technical mumbo jumbo. Bear that in mind."

_Forget__ being patient with this guy. Ass._

"Then don't ask."

His body took on a typical defence mode. His spread his weight evenly between his two feet. His shoulders hunched. She could see the muscles coating the length of his arms tense, ready for action.

"Hey, look, it's not my fault that I didn't waste my entire life stuck behind dusty old books so I could get a gazillion doctorates…"

Brennan did a fairly good imitation of pretending to suppress a chuckle, knowing that this would irritate him more than anything else.

"You become irate when you feel your intelligence is being questioned. And you're threatened by my Doctorate. Interesting."

His body jerked forward and he punctuated each of his words with a short stab of his right index finger.

"I am not _threatened_, Bones. I don't _get_ threatened."

Rapidly losing patience, Brennan rounded on him, drawing herself up to her full height to address him.

"No, you just try to threaten everyone around you with your badge and gun. Not to mention your height and bulk…"

She prodded a finger against his chest.

"Hey! I am _not_ fat!"

Hey eyes laughed at him.

"I never said you were fat. On the contrary, you're in very good shape."

She took a moment to scrutinise him, as though weighing him up in her mind. Finally, she voiced her conclusions on his character.

"You're very confrontational."

He gave a short, mirthless laugh and leaned in, ensuring her eyes were focused on his.

"Took the words right outta my mouth, Bones."

"Don't call me Bones," she snarled through gritted teeth. He did his best to bite back a seething retaliation.

"Ok, what else, _Bones_?"

She chose to take the high ground and ignore this, pretending as though he hadn't repeatedly ignored the very simple request she asked of him.

"I'll need to examine the body further. I've had less than a minute with it and you're already interrogating me."

A knock on the door distracted Booth momentarily. A timid looking young man shuffled into the room, thrust an envelope at Booth and shuffled back out again, closing the door ever so softly behind him. Booth rifled through the envelope's contents for a second.

"Here. X rays. Look at these."

He thrust the radiographic pictures under her nose. Brennan let out a frustrated growl.

"Make up your mind."

She pointed between the bones on the table and the X rays in his hand. He answered by waving the X rays, nearly smacking them off her chin. Shooting him a disgruntled look, she snatched the X rays off him and held them up to the light. She took a moment or two to scrutinise them.

"Fractures to the cranium…specifically the parietal bone…jagged edges suggest a blunt force trauma. The victim was hit seven times with a blunt object."

"Hence the _name _blunt force trauma. What kind of object?"

_Don't hit him, Tempe. Probably not a good idea to attack an F.B.I. agent._

"A bat. She was hit with a bat."

He let out a whoosh of air, rolling his shoulders back as he did.

"O-_K_. _Now_ we're getting somewhere."

She ignored him, focusing all her energy on the task at hand and not on making the lovely daydream currently germinating in her brain into a reality. He probably wouldn't appreciate being repeatedly whacked over the head with the woman's right femur.

"The attack came from behind. She never knew it was coming. The attacker was taller than her. I'd put her at roughly…" she glanced quickly at the bones "five foot five. You're looking for someone approximately five foot seven to five foot eight."

He grabbed the X rays back off her, trying in vain to decipher the secrets they revealed to her.

"Ok, now how the hell can you tell that?"

She leaned forward and ran her finger over the relevant parts on the blue tinged picture.

"The angle of the blows suggests elevated height on the part of the attacker."

He glanced at her, eyebrows drawing slowly together.

"There is just no way you can give me a description of the murderer from the X rays."

The incredulity in his voice infuriated her. She impatiently pushed him away and focused her gaze once more on the skeleton.

"Then why did you ask? Why did your people call me in? Because I _can_. Deal with it."

The finality of her tone let him know he was dismissed. Incensed that he was being effectively thrown out of a room in his own work building, the building he spent countless hours in every week, he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Brennan only just stopped herself from screaming after him. Instead she contented herself with rolling her eyes at his childish behaviour. With any luck this would be the first and last time she'd ever have to work with the pompous jerk that was Seeley Booth.

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* * *

Later that day, he returned to bring her home. He made quite a production of the fact that playing chauffeur was really not on the top of his list of things to do right now. She ignored his agitation completely and took her time gathering up her equipment. When she was finished, he shoved a piece of identification into her hand, almost as an afterthought.

"Right, Bones, here's your pass and…"

"Don't call me Bones," she interrupted.

He ignored this and strode off down the hall.

Shaking her head at the man's impatience she peered at the laminated paper clutched in her hand.

"A _cafeteria_ pass?! You can't just give me a cafeteria pass!"

He spun to face her, a rather smug smile dominating his features. He began to stride back toward her, punctuating every step with a taunting word: "Oh yes I _can_. You're not F.B.I. You're just here as a favour to us. Besides, it could be useful. You can use it to do one of your brilliant anthropological studies,"

He stopped right in front of her, their noses almost touching.

"Get away from the bodies for a while. See what actual, normal, living people are like."

Trembling with rage, she leaned into him, feeling his ragged breathing against her cheek.

"I am _good _at my job. In fact, I'm one of the best. And right now, you need me. So I suggest you start paying me some respect or I'll…"

He smiled languidly at her, trying to not show the pleasure he felt at the sight of her flashing eyes.

"Or you'll what? You were _ordered_ to come here. I know you protested, but you still had to come. Ain't nothing you can do about it, sweetheart."

Her mouth dropped open in fury. He used her speechlessness to throw her taunting words from earlier back at her.

"_Deal with it,_"

Pursing her lips, she shoved past him, taking care to wallop his hip with her heavy equipment bag as she did.

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* * *

"Ugh, he's the most infuriating man I've ever met, Angela. Arrogant, rude, disrespectful…do you know he refuses to call me 'Dr.'? He refers to me as 'Bones' instead."

Angela glanced at her friend from her rather comfortable vantage point on the sofa in Brennan's office. Brennan was sitting straight-backed at her desk, frustration poring off her in waves. Angela decided to opt for a soothing, gentle tone.

"Sweetie, _I _don't even call you 'Dr.'"

Brennan's smiled half-heartedly and her shoulders slumped.

"But, that's different. We're friends, Angela."

Angela nodded thoughtfully, then grinned widely.

"Yes, yes we are. Aw, look. We're having a moment."

Brennan's jaw slackened slightly.

"I don't know what that means."

Angela resisted the urge to roll her eyes and instead settled for sighing affectionately at her friend's naivety.

"Of course you don't."

Brennan seemed unconcerned by this and turned her attention back to the page in her hand. Angela settled back, enjoying the comfortable silence. She allowed her gaze to wander around the office, leisurely contemplating all that Brennan had told her about this Booth fellow.

"Hey, it's kinda cute that he gives you your own nickname,"

"It's _not_ cute."

Angela smothered a laugh at the absolute lack of humour in Brennan's voice.

"Fine. Say, speaking of cute, is he?"

Brennan raised her head curiously.

"Is he what?"

Angel leaned forward, getting into the subject.

"Cute. Is he cute?"

Brennan frowned slightly, considering.

"Well, he's very well structured. The angle of his…"

This time Angela _did_ roll her eyes.

"Snore, sweetie. C'mon, is he hot? Do you just wanna shove him into the nearest closet and do nasty things with him?"

Brennan looked caught between scandalised and amused.

"Angela, I'm with Pete. And, besides, Booth and I have a strong distaste for each other."

Angela smiled, refusing to buy into Brennan's dismissive tone.

"Yeah, but, Bren, you know what they say. _When two people fight this much…_"

"I don't know what that means."

"Figures."

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* * *

Booth was driving Brennan home three days later. She had completed all of her paperwork and had now, both literally and metaphorically, washed her hands off her dealings with the F.B.I. 

The victim had been formally identified as Janet Quirk, a florist shop assistant. Booth was throwing all his efforts into questioning Janet's roommate, a well-built girl by the name of Cassie, who he was convinced stood to gain sole ownership of the apartment after Janet's demise. The two had had a falling out six weeks previously and the relationship was tempestuous at best.

Brennan had raged that no matter how "solid" Cassie's build, she didn't have the height necessary to deliver the fatal blows. Nor, perhaps, the strength. She insisted that the blame lay firmly at the door of Rick, Cassie's older brother, who had been cut from their father's will after he had stormed out of the family home two Christmases previous, having turned up drunk for dinner and shouting abuse at the entire family.

The two had exchanged extremely heated words mere hours before this suffocating car journey so much so that Brennan was convinced, had she not been a woman, their words would have turned to blows. Desperate to break the tension, she attempted to start up a conversation.

"You know, Angela was saying yesterday…"

He turned his head slightly toward her, appreciating her attempt to rectify the situation.

"This the artist?"

"Yes. As I was saying, she was commenting yesterday on the amount of bickering we do. She said that when two people fight this much…"

With that, Brennan propped her elbow up on the ridge of the car door and peered out of the passenger seat window. She sighed impatiently.

Booth startled her by hitting his hands, palms upward, off the steering wheel. He was practically twitching.

"You don't just…she was…what…we…what, what?"

Brennan looked rather surprised.

"I don't know. That's all she said."

Booth hunched over the wheel, a low growling noise escaping the back of his throat. He spat something out that sounded rather like "Squints!" but she could have been mistaken.

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* * *

Two days after Booth and Brennan had said what they both hoped were to be their final goodbyes, Angela was bouncing around the anthropologist's office, whining in an attempt to get her own way. 

"Bren, sweetie, come _on_! One night won't kill you. We'll have some drinks, do some dancing, kiss some guys…"

An authoritative male voice cut Angela off mid-bounce.

"Bones!"

Brennan involuntarily tensed.

"Ugh!"

Angela spun to face the intruder. Her face took on a rather hungry expression as she looked him up and down.

"Well, _hello_. And who is this?"

Running a hand through her hair Brennan made some half-hearted gestures between the two unacquainted individuals.

"Angela, this is Booth…"

"_Special Agent_ Seeley Booth."

He raised his eyebrows at Brennan in a rather significant way. She glared back.

"You don't call me Dr., I don't call you Special Agent."

He sighed, rolling his head as though to relieve coiled-up tension as he did.

"Ok. Fine. Whatever."

Angela was practically humming as her gaze shot back and forth between the two, a very knowing smile gracing her lips. Brennan suddenly decided it was probably wisest to eliminate the artist as quickly as possible and hear whatever Booth had to say alone.

"Angela, I'll talk to you later."

Angela's eyes widened and she bit the inside of her lip in an 'ok, ok I can take a hint' gesture. She began to walk slowly towards the door. With her fingers gripping the handle, she turned.

"You have to do a lot of working out to be a Special Agent or is that a personal choice on your part?"

"Angela!"

Smirking to herself, Angela left. Brennan busied herself with some files on her desk, knowing that if she looked up and saw the smug expression on Booth's face she would lose all sense of reason entirely.

The seconds ticked past.

"So, eh, Bones…how ya been?"

"_Fine_. What do you want, Booth?"

He laughed at her blunt manner. She looked up at the sound. In spite of herself, she found it rather attractive. It was quite guttural…undeniably masculine.

"I…eh…I just wanted to tell you that…we arrested Rick for the murder of Janet Quirk."

She leaned her head back in triumph.

"So I was _right_?"

His eyes flashed but he stood his ground.

"Well, can you blame me for being sceptical, Bones? All you looked at were a few X rays and were convinced you could catch a murderer without the help of a trained professional."

She rounded the desk and strode up to him, her chest pushing against his with the vehemence of her words.

"You arrogant, sexist…you just can't admit I was right can you? Just can't say the words. What's wrong, Booth, don't believe a woman can be good at her job? That she can possibly know and understand things that you can't?"

His lips almost disappeared. His words were low with a desperate warning growl to them.

"I'm not even going to dignify that with an answer. We caught the guy. That's all that matters."

With that, he turned and marched across the office.

Losing the battle to remain composed, Brennan yelled, "You're welcome!" just before the door banged shut.

Both went around like bears with sore heads for three days after this little exchange. The _audacity_, the sheer _ignorance_ of it… No, it was definitely for the best not to dwell on it…even if they were finding it impossible to get the other out of their respective heads.

With any luck, they'd never lay eyes on each other again. God knows what would happen to them if they did.


End file.
